


Negan Smut Week Drabbles & More

by Cunninglinguist



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Blood, Bloodplay, Bodily Fluids, Boot Worship, Breathplay, Choking, Consent Issues, Daddy Kink, F/M, Femdom, Gratuitous Smut, Halloween, Humiliation, Inappropriate Use of Halloween costumes, Jealousy, Knives, Light BDSM, Name-Calling, Negan is the worst, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Pain, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rage, Rough Sex, Smut, Squirting, Torture, Vaginal Sex, Weapons Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-24 11:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8370499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cunninglinguist/pseuds/Cunninglinguist
Summary: This is a compilation of responses to the prompts/ideas that I received on the Tumbles during Negan Smut Week and ideas prompted by hella thirsty headcanon submission times that didn't really stand on their own. Smutlet-specific warnings will be posted at the beginning of every chapter.





	1. Hate Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sithlordslut's prompt: having a kinda love/hate relationship with negan that manifests itself in angry disgusting hate sex :)))  
> **WARNINGS**: graphic smut, blood, pain, weapons, swearing

“And just where the fuck do you get off fucking speaking to me like that?” Negan asked, eyes flashing, Lucille resting on his shoulder.

You held your ground, locking eyes with him though he loomed menacingly before you. “It’s a terrible fucking idea and you know it. You’re gonna get some of our people killed.”

In an instant, he was in your space, the heat of his wrath palpable. You could see him grinding his teeth in frustration & couldn’t help but smirk openly. He knew you were right, and damn, if that wasn’t the biggest turn on ever. (Though the leather jacket and beard didn’t hurt, either.)

The way you saw it, he had two choices: he could begrudgingly acknowledge that you were right, or he could stubbornly insist on executing his plan, then have your knowing look to contend with when it ended exactly the way you’d predicted.

You were too busy preemptively gloating to yourself to consider the immediate fallout of either of those options.

He crowded you back against the side of the truck, stopping only when your back hit the door and you had nowhere left to go.

“You,” he said lowly, his breath flushing your face. “You are not fucking in charge here, little girl.”

“Maybe I fucking should be,” you spat back, doing your best to ignore the arousal that throbbed between your legs. Fuck, he still scared you sometimes, but that wasn’t enough to stop you from speaking up when he was acting like a fucking hotheaded idiot. In fact, you’d known him for long enough that his intimidation tactics only egged you on.

“Let me fucking remind you how things work around here,” he snarled. He brought the business end of Lucille up to your neck and pressed: it was hard enough to sting, but not hard enough to do irreversible damage. You gasped softly as the razor sharp barbs bit into the soft flesh of your throat, leaving burning slices in their wakes. You bit your lip as a hot rivulet of blood snaked down your collarbone to your breast.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do?” you goaded, jutting your chin out defiantly.

He narrowed his eyes and removed the weapon from your throat. You were only able to suck in two gulps of air before he spun you around, pressing your face against the side of the truck and pinning your arms over your head with one inexorable gloved fist.

He pressed his half-hard erection against your rear, grinding slightly, his breath against your ear. You were half horrified, half too-aroused-to-care when a small whimper escaped your lips.

“Hmm? What was that?” He asked teasingly in your ear, leather-clad fingers dancing down your trembling stomach to unzip your jeans. “Suddenly Miss Fuckin’ Know-It-All has nothing to say?”

“Fuck you,” you tried, but you were already wriggling your ass against him insistently.

“Fuck me, huh?” he hissed, biting your earlobe emphatically as he worked his gloved fingers into your underwear. You arched your back and sighed when cool leather rubbed your clitoris, already swollen and aching with a desire too convoluted to ponder.

“Fuck you,” you sighed again, your legs shaking as he rubbed you expertly, the feeling of his cock behind you nearly too much to bear.

“Hmm,” he hummed, and in one fell swoop he pulled your pants to your knees, underwear and all, exposing you to him entirely. At the sound of his zipper, you attempted to glance behind you, but his grip on your wrists was unrelenting.

“Let’s see how many times I can get you to fuckin’ scream my name, huh?” he mused, kicking your legs apart, forcing you to hinge further at the waist.

“Good luck,” you shot back, albeit weakly, as you practically vibrated with raw desire for him.

He entered you in one rapid motion, not bothering to allow you to adjust to his sizable length before pulling all the way out and thrusting back in.

You bit back a scream, your forehead lolling against the filthy surface of the truck, your fists clenching and unclenching helplessly in his grip.

“Mmm, so much fuckin’ pussy juice on my big cock already,” he said breathlessly, pausing his thrusts to circle his hips, pressing his length into you deliciously. Fuck, it was so unfair: he always won this way–a sweet, torturous heat was building steadily in your gut.

You let out a choked sob when his free hand tangled in your hair and yanked back, hard, stretching the fresh wounds on your neck. His voice was low and deadly in your ear. “Who calls the fucking shots?”

“Shut…up…” you groaned, writhing back against him, chasing the heat.

His grip on your wrists and hair tightened as he sped up his thrusts, sending you hurtling towards what promised to be an intense, agonizing climax. “Who’s in charge?” he growled.

“Fuck,” you sobbed out, fresh blood leaking down your chest as your cunt gushed around his significant length. “Fuck!”

His hand abandoned your hair and he draped himself over your back, pressing your arms and torso into the cold metal. His breathing was labored in your ear as he reached between your thighs and started working your clit furiously with gloved fingers.

“Neg–ah, fuck!” You slammed your eyes shut, willing yourself against saying his name, though you knew all efforts were futile.

“Say it,” he growled, his grip on your wrists painful. He squeezed your clit roughly with his index and middle finger, sending bursts of white heat shooting through you.

“Ah!” you cried, banging your forehead against the truck, delirious as your impending orgasm approached the point of no return.

“Who fucking owns you?” he snarled in your ear, and that was it–

You threw your head back and screamed, “Negan, Negan, Negan!” as the fire inside you burst forth, consuming you in its exquisite flames as you came and came and came, your inner walls contracting around him as he fucked you through it, not stopping until he finished deep inside of you with a shudder and a groan.

“That’s the fuck right, little girl,” he murmured, panting hard as he pulled out of you abruptly. You whimpered and melted against the truck at the feeling of his copious release trickling down your trembling thigh. “Don’t fuckin’ forget it again.”


	2. I am the Hydra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> halloweenbeauty's prompt: Negan gets turned on by the reader being sadistic and that leads to very kinky bloody sex.
> 
> **WARNINGS**: femdom, choking, biting, blood, bloodplay, mentions of torture, kink, consensual but not safe and definitely not sane, power struggle, knives, and of course, very explicit smut.

When Negan first asked you to assist him with the less savory aspects of meting out judgment to those unfortunate souls who dared to cross him, you had agreed without batting an eye. You’d told him on several occasions that you agreed with him when he said that the threat of physical violence with lasting effects was the only way to keep people in line.

You can’t say you were surprised to discover that you quite enjoyed the powerful rush that accompanied these bloody tasks–the feeling of having another at your mercy, offering you anything in exchange for another chance, another shot to not make the terrible decision that had led them here. The begging and pleading were music to your ears. You tried not to openly show your glee–you didn’t want them to know how their terror fed your ego, how their pain made you feel like a god– but sometimes you couldn’t help it. You’d look to Negan for his signal, and at his whim you wielded the knife, the iron, the hammer…whatever the chosen weapon of punishment.

Today was different: Negan needed information from one of the Hilltoppers regarding the rogue group that had been systematically attacking Saviors. You knew that he’d known more than he was letting on from the moment he arrived at the Sanctuary, and he wasn’t giving it up easily. Boy, was he hard to crack.  
At least he had been at first, according to Negan. Then you stepped in.

“Holy fucking damn!” Negan exclaimed, leaning back emphatically as you exited the basement room, wiping dripping pliers on your vermilion-splattered white button-down. “There’s no way that asshole didn’t talk.”

You grinned at him, still high from the thrill of the interrogation. “Oh, he talked. Doubt he’ll be saying much else, though.”

Negan’s eyes widened as he whistled. “Damn,” he said again, regarding you curiously. “Is there any more of that poor bastard fuckin’ left?”

You batted your eyelashes coquettishly and slid the pliers into your back pocket. “Not much.”

Though he was half-smiling, the look on his face was inscrutable, like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of you. He absently tapped Lucille against his shoulder. “You know, you are one batshit fuckin’ crazy, vicious little broad. I’ve got no fucking idea how I ever got anything done around here without you.”

Your ears burned and you averted your eyes, not wanting to blatantly preen under the praise. You wondered if you’d ever get used to Negan complimenting you. “Well, someone’s gotta do it,” you replied, attempting flippancy.

Suddenly, you were acutely aware of his proximity to you: every hair stood on end as you forced yourself to look him in the face.

“Sure,” he said, dark eyes hooded and sinister, “but ‘someone’ doesn’t have to fuckin’ savor it, to get their fuckin’ panties all soaked to hell from doing it.”  
Face ablaze, you opened your mouth to reply but he silenced you by placing two fingers directly on your lips. Your knees buckled slightly. Was this happening?! Was this why he came down here to wait for you?

“Darlin’, I’ve fuckin’ seen you in there. Any fucking shit-for-brains half-wit fuck can see how much you fucking love that shit.” He smiled predatorily, grabbing your jaw and tracing your lips with his thumb. “The look on that pretty fucking face while you’re working a motherfucker over…"He exhaled shakily and set Lucille aside. Your own breathing had become heavy, the tension between the two of you crackling as the blood dripped from your hands and dried slowly on your shirt.  
Negan gripped your jaw painfully tight and brought your mouth to his, crushing your lips in an unforgiving kiss.

“Shit,” you said hoarsely when he finally pulled away. You yelped when he bit your bottom lip, hard–it sent a wave of rage through you, and you pushed him up against the wall, hard enough that the back of his head connected with the concrete.

He laughed breathlessly, surprised at the aggression, but any levity evaporated in an instant when his large hand closed around your throat. Your vision swam as he squeezed; you were vaguely aware of his hunting knife glinting in your periphery.

“Fall the fuck back, doll,” he murmured, brandishing his knife before you. “Just because I’ve been letting you fuck some fuckers up don’t mean you can just get away with any old bullshit.”

You struggled in his grip, your blood-slick hands slipping against him. Somehow, simultaneously enraged and maddeningly aroused, you managed to break free. Using the momentum of your victory, you slammed his hand against the wall, forcing his fist open. He gave a pained grunt as the knife clattered to the floor.  
You picked it up and pointed it at him, breathing hard. With a smile that did not reach his eyes, he held his hands up in mock surrender.

“Holy fuckin’ fuckity fuck,” he said breathlessly. “Are you gonna…stab me?”

“Maybe!” you snapped, lunging menacingly at him. He flinched—it was tiny, nearly imperceptible, but he flinched all the same, though his eyes remained dark and steely. Heat pooled in your gut. You knew it: he was afraid of you.

“You don’t fuckin’ scare me,” you murmured, roughly pinning his shoulder to the wall with your free hand. Your eyes burned into his as you traced your open lips against his scruffy, perfect jaw line, scraping the blade across the concrete of the wall just next to his face. Shit, he was completely accessible to you: your captive, a gorgeous fruit ripe for the picking.

And he knew it, too. He wanted it like this.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and that was it: your lips found his in a desperate, sloppy kiss, his hands fumbling uselessly at your shirt as you unzipped his jacket.

“Fuck this,” he snarled, buttons flying as he frantically ripped your shirt open. He pushed your bra aside and sucked your nipple into his mouth, hard, sending a rush of warmth between your thighs.

“Get on the ground,” you groaned, groping at the rapidly hardening cock in his pants with your free hand as he bit down on your nipple. “I wanna ride you.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied before sliding down until he was seated with the wall at his back.

You smiled down at him, enjoying this rare change in perspective—usually he was taller one, but here, his face level with your crotch, he might as well have been on his knees. He looked so open, so desperate as he gazed up at you with parted lips, his dark hair a mess as he unzipped his pants. This was a highly atypical and unexpected treat, and it was driving you absolutely wild with lust and power.

“Hmm,” you hummed before opening your mouth and deliberately placing his blade between your teeth. You quickly shucked off your pants and underwear, tossing them aside haphazardly before slowly sinking down to straddle his lap.

His hands and lips were everywhere, squeezing and biting and rubbing, as you rolled your hips, grinding your wet, aching cunt against his substantial erection, uncaring that the blood from your most recent victim had smeared across his face, his clothes, his hands. You traced the knife along his leather-clad arm and let out a moan as he sucked a bruise onto your neck.

“Don’t tell me you’re still fuckin’ trying to stab me…” he murmured against your ear as he lifted you slightly to position his cock at your entrance.

“I might if you don’t fuck me,” you replied, pressing the cold flat edge of the knife to his neck.

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart,” he chuckled lowly. His eyes burned into yours as he teased himself against you briefly before forcefully pulling your hips down, impaling you achingly slowly on his thick cock. 

You threw your head back, gasping at the sensation of him breaching you, his grip bruising, his rapid exhales humid on the blood-slick flesh of your chest.  
“Fuck yes,” you gasped, dropping the knife to fist both bloody hands in his thick, dark hair. You swiveled your hips, stars exploding behind your eyes at the delicious friction.

“That’s it, baby, that’s fuckin’ right,” he groaned, dipping his head to lick and bite your stiff, sensitive nipples.

You yanked his head back, slamming it against the wall for the second time that day, and closed a slippery crimson-streaked hand around the long, gorgeous expanse of his neck. He inhaled sharply, his eyes a wild mix of lust and wrath.

“Tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had,” you spat. His eyelids fluttered and his grip on your flesh tightened as you picked up the pace of your hips. “Say it!”

“You’re the fuckin’…you’re the fuckin’ best lay I’ve ever—ever fuckin’ had,” he said hoarsely, a small rivulet of drool running down his chin.

“Ah, God!” you cried, wetting his cock with fresh arousal at his words. You grit your teeth and tightened your hold on him. “Tell me the Saviors would be fucked without me.”

His eyes flashed, and you could have sworn something that might have been fear flitted across them before he groaned, “The Saviors would be…would be fucked without you.”

You could barely believe it: he was completely pliant, bending to your every whim, collapsing like a house of cards. You released his throat, and before he could gag or gasp for air, you shoved your middle and index fingers between his full, stained-red lips. He moaned around them as he sucked, and the sight was just too much for you to bear. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come!” you yelled, twisting your other hand in his hair as that telltale luscious, white heat uncoiled in your belly.

He sucked your fingers harder as he moved your hips faster. His plush lips shone with blood and saliva, and you couldn’t resist pressing your lips to his for a frenzied taste, pulling your fingers out before plunging your tongue into his mouth and pressing his shoulders against the wall as you rode him for all he was worth.

Negan sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and bit down hard enough to draw blood. “Fucking come all over my cock,” he said, his voice strained with desire.

“Fuck, Negan!” you screamed, fisting his hair as your powerful climax unspooled in your gut and crashed over you. He buried his face in your breasts, beard scratching against soft flesh, shaking against you as he came deep inside of you with a loud groan.

You stayed there, panting, cradling his head to your chest as his labored breathing slowed and his cum slowly leaked out of you. 

“Fuck,” he finally said against your breasts, encircling your waist with his arms.

You absently pet his delightfully disheveled hair, now sticky with blood, and clenched your muscles around his softening cock. He shuddered violently and sighed. You couldn’t help but smile at the notion of this happening again.


	3. Babydoll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous' prompt: I was wondering I could request something really kinky about Negan? Maybe with daddy kink and squirting?
> 
> ***WARNINGS***: explicit smut, oral sex, anal play, daddy kink, slight name-calling, squirting, Negan’s filthy mouth, bodily fluids for days.

“Daddy, I want you so bad,” you gasped, writhing wantonly as Negan trailed his hand slowly down your body, ghosting long fingers over your hot flesh. You trembled with desire as his lis lips grazed your knee. He was in one hell of a mood: he’d been working you up for what seemed like hours, and you were ready to burst. He’d started by slowly stripping off each layer of your clothing, pressing open mouthed kisses on each square inch of freshly bared flesh, which was enough to have you arching your back and pulling urgently at his hair. He’d pushed your legs open, exposing you, wet with desire, and lowered his head. Eyes glittering with mischief, he’d just breathed on your aching cunt for what seemed like an eternity before leaning in to taste you.

These weren’t the long, satisfying licks that he usually gave when he was consumed by lust, no–these were light, barely there kitten licks, exquisite torture to your sensitive, throbbing clit. You squirmed and tried to shove his head closer, but he’d gripped your wrist with bruising force.

“None of that shit,” he’d warned. “Daddy’s going at his own pace tonight, babydoll, and there’s not a damn fucking thing you can fucking do about it.”

Oh, shit–you slammed your eyes shut, knowing you were in for it.

“I’ll make you a deal, baby,” he murmured hotly against your sex as his fingers grazed the tremulous flesh of your inner thighs. “I’ll fuck you, hard-”(blunt fingernails scraped your skin, you gasped)“-but you have to come on Daddy’s face first. Think you can do that, babydoll?”

In a daze, you’d nodded your assent. You didn’t know exactly how long he’d kept up with those teasing, infuriating flicks of his tongue, but when he pulled back you were a raw nerve, moaning and biting your lip, twisting your fingers in the sheets, whimpering, “Daddy, please!” over and over.

With a dark chuckle, he’d forced   
your legs even wider. You cried out and seized up as he plunged his tongue into you, then licked upwards to expertly circle your swollen clit.

“Hmm,” he hummed, pulling off, his lips slick with your arousal. You could barely see, you could barely think; you were a live wire, an atom bomb ready to blow at any second.

“Your pussy tastes so good, babydoll,” he praised lowly. He slowly swept two long fingers over you, just slightly dipping into your throbbing wetness at first. You mewled softly and gripped the sheets tighter.

“So fucking good for me, my perfect little girl,” he growled, fucking his fingers in deep and crooking them just so, right at *that* spot. Your vision whited out around the edges as you twisted and moaned, so close to the height of your pleasure you could taste it.

“Oooh, baby,” he crooned, withdrawing his fingers and sucking, savoring your taste. “Can’t fucking wait to taste your cum.”

You whimpered and tried to close your knees, but a sharp elbow to your soft inner thigh curtailed the motion.

“Daddy,” you moaned, your voice cracking. “Daddy please, can I have your cock?”

He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to your cunt. Then he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, the way he always does before suggesting something extra naughty. “After Daddy licks up all of that sweet pussy cum, babydoll,” he drawled, slicking up his fingers with your arousal. “Daddy knows JUST the thing to make his slutty little girl come fuckin’ oceans.”

“Fuck,” you sobbed out as he rubbed insistently at your tight, clenching asshole. Your orgasm swelled as he pushed one finger in, then a second as he licked and sucked your clit, moaning against you like a man dying of thirst in an oasis.

“God, Daddy–I’m gonna–!” you cried urgently, your ass stretching deliciously around his talented fingers as you ascended past the point of no return.

“Mmm,” he murmured, his eyes ablaze with pure want as he watched you suffer in the loveliest way. “That’s it, babydoll, come all over my fucking face.”

You bit your lip and thrashed against the sheets, mouth open in a wordless scream as your body gave itself over to a searing wave of pleasure, starting from deep within your core and exploding violently, over and over and over until you were a quivering, spent mess.

“Holy fucking fuckity fuck, babydoll.”

Feeling warm and gooey, you craned your neck to look at the gorgeous man between your thighs…and immediately bit back a giggle. He was soaked, entirely: his face dripped with your release, and some of his hair was even a little damp. Your eyes followed a rivulet of fluid as it snaked down through his lovely salt-and-pepper scruff before clinging to his plush, parted lips. Heat flooded your belly.

“Did I…?” you started, biting your lip playfully.

“I asked you to come on my face, and fucking come you most certainly fucking did,” he said, a soft awe in his voice. “You’ve been such a good girl, I think you’re ready for your reward now.”

In an instant, he stood between your legs, hovering over you before bringing your lips together in a hungry, domineering kiss. You moaned at the taste of your release on his lips.

“And now,” he growled, rubbing the tip of his hot, hard length against the soft wetness of your entrance. “You’re gonna fucking come all juicy like that again on Daddy’s cock, aren’t you, my perfect little slut?”

You squealed in delight and dug your fingernails into his strong shoulders. “Yes, fuck yes, Daddy!”


	4. You'll See Me in Your Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lucifers-trash-stash's prompt/headcanon: Okay so here's a sinful Halloween Negan headcanon. I see Negan getting really into roleplay. Less doctor/teacher/officer here, more like he found where the Halloween costumes are stored off season on a run. Not only would he love all the sexy costumes on his s/o, but he would definitely get dressed like a vampire/devil/demon/ghost/horror movie killers (Negan with Freddy Krueger's glove would make me weak). Imagining him doing some neck biting foreplay, it's just too much for me to handle.
> 
> ***WARNINGS***: swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, breathplay/choking, mention of knives, surprise feelings, inappropriate use of Halloween costumes, terrible Freddy Krueger one-liners

“No fucking way,” said Negan, the levity in his tone betraying his excitement. You glanced at him sideways, biting back a grin. He sounded almost like a little kid, a disarmingly sweet change in demeanor you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before.

It’s not like you didn’t relate: who could have predicted that the pharmacy you were raiding today would be directly adjacent to a Halloween store? Typical Americana strip mall, you mused. Halloween had always been one of your favorite holidays before everything went down, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little flutter of joy at the sight of the store logo, its orange lettering fading with age, complete with a menacing, cartoon Grim Reaper, mouth wide and fingers outstretched, beckoning you inside.

“Negan,” you said, pulling at his sleeve. “Wouldn’t this be classified, as you put it, as a ‘fuckin’ waste of fuckin’ time’? We got what we came for, we oughtta head back.”

He cocked his head and chewed on his lush bottom lip, giving you the look he always gave you when he wanted something. “Aw, come on. Just a little peek. We’ll be real fuckin’ fast. Quick like lightning.”

It was barely a fight—you wanted to go in as much as he did. Plus, it wouldn’t be dark for some time yet–you just figured you had to play the pragmatic card first, if only just to remind him that you had later.

Negan pushed the doors open. Dust hung in the air, almost colloidal where it was illuminated by sunlight. It was fairly untouched (who raids a seasonal Halloween store in the end times?). Negan locked the door and nodded, signaling that it was time to split up and sweep the place for walkers.

As you rounded a corner, pistol out, you startled a little at the sight of a particularly lifelike prop of a little vampire girl. Her eyes were entirely white, and blood dripped from her lips. You chuckled softly to yourself once you realized she wasn’t real, and your heart ached for simpler times.

Once you’d cleared your side of the store, you holstered your gun and began perusing the store’s wares. Costumes hung in dusty bags on makeshift shelves, some torn open and strewn across the floor. A smile crept across your lips at the pictures of evil clowns, naughty nuns, and children dressed as princesses that lined the walls.

Suddenly, Michael Myers leapt out at you from behind one of the standalone racks, muffled voice booming, “Boo!”

You jumped about fifteen feet in the air, screaming bloody murder and knocking into some plastic machetes and cleavers hanging directly behind you. It was fucking Negan, of course, laughing so hard he was wheezing as he pulled the iconic mask off.

“Holy shit, I got you so fucking bad!” he howled, steadying himself on the glass case behind him as he regained composure.

“Prick! You scared the shit out of me!” you yelled, lightly punching his shoulder. You breathed deeply in an attempt dispel your adrenaline.

“I know! It was fucking golden!” He grinned, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t melting at the sight of your ruthless, powerful man cracking himself up. You had always figured that Negan had laughed a lot before the world turned. He was almost beaming, his smile reached his eyes, and your stomach flip-flopped. Warmth coiled in your belly.

Your feelings must have been written all over your face in capital letters, because his eyes darkened as he grabbed your waist and pulled your bodies flush.

“I want you,” you admitted, taking his handsome, scruffy face in your hands and running your thumbs over his lovely, stubbly jawline.

“I know, darlin’,” he murmured, licking his lips as he squeezed your ass, hard.

“Asshole,” you laughed before dropping your backpack and pressing your mouth to his in a hungry kiss.

Grinning into the kiss, he swept his arm out to clear the surface behind him. Plastic pens that looked like blood-filled syringes fell with a clatter to the floor. In one swift motion, he lifted you up and spun you around to perch your ass on the counter.

“Negan,” you moaned, closing your eyes, weak from the display of his strength. You encircled his waist with your legs and tugged, pulling him close enough to feel his sizable erection against your crotch.

“Mmm, someone’s needy as all fucking hell today,” he said gruffly, rolling his hips against you as his lips attacked your neck, kissing and biting, just hard enough to send heat surging through you.

“Or maybe Halloween just gets me hot,” you said coyly, lifting your arms as he pulled your tank top off.

“I know it fuckin’ does,” he said, pushing you onto your back and unzipping your jeans. He cocked an eyebrow mischievously as he hooked his fingers into your waistband. “Lift that fine ass up for me, baby.”

You complied, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch as he slowly peeled your jeans and underwear down, exposing every inch of your trembling flesh at a torturous pace. He pressed a quick kiss to the bared mound of your cunt before yanking your pants off in a fit of impatience.

“Come on,” you whined urgently, opening your legs suggestively, sucking in your breath at the feeling of air hitting your most sensitive area.  
“Patience!” he admonished playfully, deep dimples framing his luscious lips. He unwound his red scarf slowly, grinning at you as your eyes fixated hungrily on the sight of his long fingers at work. He knew exactly what he was doing, the fucker.

You let out a little yelp as he dropped to his knees and pushed your thighs apart. Without warning, he buried his face in your cunt, lapping at the wetness of your arousal hungrily, making you squeeze your eyes shut and shudder violently.

“Ooh, Negan!” you groaned, heels sliding against the leather of his jacket. He moaned against you as he licked feverishly at your swollen clit, long swipes of his tongue that had your toes curling and your fingers twisting in his hair.

You were so lost in the wonderful feeling of his mouth against you that it took you a minute to register the gentle scrape of something plastic trailing up your leg.

“What…what is that?” you asked hoarsely, craning your neck.

Smiling darkly, Negan pulled off of you with a final swipe of his tongue. Grinning mischievously, he slowly stood between your legs, caging your body with his. He lifted his right hand, waggling his eyebrows as your mouth hung open and blood rushed between your legs. At some point while he had been indisposed, he had slipped his hand into one of Freddy Krueger’s gloves. It was a good prop, too—though the blades were plastic, they looked like they could have been real knives.

“Ooh, sexy Freddy Krueger,” you said, yanking him close by the neckline of his tee shirt. You grazed his lips with yours, relishing in the feeling of his scruff against your flesh. “You gonna give me a wet dream, Freddy?”

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’ll see me in your nightmares,” he breathed, dipping his head to lick and bite your neck as he teased the glove between your legs, rubbing it against your wetness.

“Ah, stop talking,” you gasped, laughing breathlessly as he sucked a bruise onto your sensitive skin.

He chuckled darkly and unzipped his pants, freeing his cock. Firmly grasping your thigh with his gloved hand, he spat in his left hand and slicked himself up before entering you in one rough thrust.

You arched your back and cried out his name, your fingers gripping his leather-clad forearms. He licked his lips slowly, savoring the taste of your arousal on his tongue as he pulled almost all the way out of you and thrust back in, deeper than before, hitting that wonderful spot inside of you that made you see stars.  
“I wish they were real knives,” you groaned as he teased the glove up your inner thigh.

 

“Mmm, me too, darlin’. You love that shit, little freak,” he teased, wickedly moving his hand up your quivering sides, over your hardened nipples, until he reached your neck. His large hand spanned the expanse of your throat; the blade on his index finger dug into your jaw line exquisitely, fanning the flames of your arousal. You looked into his eyes and nodded vigorously. He grit his teeth and growled lecherously as he closed his fingers around your neck, digging the plastic into your flesh as he pressed down, hard.

Your vision swam as he cut off your airflow, the deprivation heightening the exquisite bliss of his cock thrusting into you. The warring sensations coupled with the sight of his face twisted in the pleasurable effort of getting you off was what tipped you over the edge—you slammed your eyes shut and squeezed your thighs around his waist as you hurtled towards your climax. He fucked you through it, his jaw set intently, releasing your neck at the last minute to unleash your orgasm with an influx of fresh oxygen. You slammed your eyes shut and screamed his name as you peaked in luxurious waves, over and over, squeezing around him until he gripped your thighs painfully tight, stilled, and came deep inside of you. 

You groaned as he flopped down on top of you, panting hard against your heaving chest.

“God,” you sighed, carding your fingers through his hair, now messy from your sordid adventure. “That was crazy.”

He lifted his head, smiling lazily, and wiggled the prop knives on his long fingers at you. “I was gonna fuck you in that Michael Myers mask, but then I wouldn’t have been able to eat up that sweet pussy.”

You laughed and gently pushed his head away. “Maybe next time.”

“Oh, I’m bringing all of this shit back with us,” he promised. “You’re gonna get it, my little fucking Halloween queen.”


	5. Look at My Dirty Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nonny said: Prompt Idea: Being one of Negan's wives for a while now maybe three months or so. Having joined willingly because he is one piece of fine ass and plus shelter. Things going smoothly between the two of you and being considered friends. One day while around camp you and one of the Saviors start chatting. Maybe even a bit flirtatious and guess who happens to see this~ I can imagine him wanting to leave bruises as proof that you belong to him. What happens is up to you though~
> 
> **WARNINGS**: really rough sex, consent issues (dubcon), boot worship, facials, face down ass up, pain, light bondage, BDSM undertones, humiliation, dom-as-all-hell, jealous!Negan, unreasonable expectations, inappropriate use of a greenhouse, Negan’s filthy mouth, gratuitous incorporation of season 7 episode 1 Negan quotes, gratuitous use of Dwight as a plot device....

“Hey.” You stopped in your tracks at the sound of Dwight’s voice. You turned, finding him leaning against the doorframe of the greenhouse, regarding you expectantly. You weren’t overly fond of Dwight, but he seemed to always find reasons to speak to you.

“Hey, what’s up?” you replied, not bothering to mask your annoyance as you balanced the basket of laundry on one hip.

“Just seein’ if you wanted some help with that,” he said, stepping towards you. “I could come with.”

You offered him a tight smile in response. You’d discovered in your three months at the Sanctuary that it was always quicker for you to get laundry done by yourself, and efficiency was paramount here. You didn’t want to risk angering Negan, not after what you had seen him do—plus, you were his favorite at the moment, and you had been fortunate enough to not experience his wrath firsthand. Yet. Dwight slowing you down would not prolong your winning streak.

“Ah, thanks, but I got it,” you said diplomatically, adjusting your basket and resuming your journey to the laundry room. “It’s just some shirts I have to get done for Negan.”

You bit back an irritated protest as Dwight fell in stride with you. “Lemme walk with you, then, keep you company. How’s everything?”

Rolling your eyes, you said, “It’s fine, man. How’s everything with you?”

“Could be better,” he said, rushing ahead to hold the door to the laundry room open for you. Basic chivalry hadn’t completely lost its charm, you supposed, smiling at him as you passed.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, setting the basket down and filling the wash basin with a bucket of cold water you’d fetched from the well earlier that morning. Though you wouldn’t choose Dwight as your conversation partner, you had to admit, it was nice to have someone ask after you. As long as he wasn’t trying to get his bungling hands on your task, you could deal with some basic chatter.

“I can’t lie, it gets pretty lonely,” he said, hopping up on the counter next to you. He leaned close as you dumped the last bucket into the tub. “I miss Sherry.”

You nodded sympathetically. That must have been tough to lose his girlfriend to his boss…especially when his boss is fucking Negan! Even after all of the seemingly preposterous, incredible things that you had seen since the virus broke out, the one thing that you could not imagine to save your life was Negan making a compromise.  
“You’re so beautiful,” said Dwight suddenly. You tensed up when the backs of his fingers grazed your bare bicep. “I know Negan likes you, but—“

“I’m his wife,” you blurted, your eyes wide, though you couldn’t help but blush at the compliment.

“Yeah, one of them,” he shot back, eyebrows knitting together in frustration. “It’s so fucked up, why does he get all the good women? You’re so pretty and nice, I’d just—“

“What the fuck is fucking going on in here?” boomed Negan’s voice unexpectedly, startling the both of you as it filled the room.

Dwight jumped down from the counter and started stammering, but Negan blew past him on his path straight to you, his eyes narrow and burning with a rage you had never experienced. It was fucking terrifying.

“Were you flirting with this prick?” he spat in your face, fury pouring off of him in fiery waves. You froze, your mouth hanging open in shock, unsure of what to do in this wholly unprecedented situation.

He gripped your jaw tightly, the buttery leather of his gloves pressing into your flesh painfully, and bellowed, “You will speak when spoken to!”

Your eyes welled up with tears as your jaw ached in his grip. “No, of course not! No, no!”

He released you, breathing hard, his teeth set on edge. Then, he gripped you by the upper arm and pulled you with him, dragging you out of the room.

“Nothing happened,” tried Dwight frantically, following closely (but not too closely).

Negan rounded on him, shoving an accusatory finger in his face. “ This ain’t over. I’ll be back for your fucking ass, mark my fucking words, you fucking tricky motherfucker. Stay the fuck away from my women.”

Dwight stilled, speechless.

You did your best to keep up with Negan as he hauled you back through the Sanctuary, his fingers gripping you so tight that you thought you might lose circulation in your arm. You were definitely going to bruise, that’s for sure. 

Ignoring your attempts to explain that you didn’t want anything to do with Dwight, that you were perfectly happy being exclusively his, Negan shoved you into the greenhouse. You fell to the floor with a pained groan, your knees smarting from where they made contact with the hard floor. 

“Now,” he said gruffly, undoing his belt as he approached you menacingly. “Looks like you need to be fucking reminded of who you fucking belong to.”

You shrank back, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest as your vision swam. This was the closest you had ever come to an out of body experience. He stopped, just before you, and squatted low. You flinched when he tipped your chin up to meet your gaze, his touch curiously gentle.

“Now, darlin’,” he said, warning in his tone as his eyes bored into yours. “Tell me. Who owns you?”

Your mouth opened, though you almost did trust yourself to speak. “Y-you do.”

A wrathful micro-expression flitted across his face quickly. His eyes turned steely and cold before he slapped the leather of his belt against the concrete floor with enough force that it rang in your ears. “And what’s my fucking name?”

Your mind was a blur, every instinct screaming out to lower your eyes, but you just couldn’t. “Negan,” you said, your voice tremulous.

He grinned wolfishly and stood. “Better. Now,” he stepped back a few paces and pointed to the toe of his black boot. “Why don’t you crawl over here and show me some fucking appreciation?”

You bit your lip, hating the arousal that tingled between your legs at his command. He was always very take-charge in bed, but he had never been so keen to humiliate you completely, to subjugate you in this way. You always suspected that one day, his ruthlessness outside of the bedroom might manifest itself during your sex; little had you known that today was the day. 

His fingers beckoned you impatiently. “Today!” he barked.

Face burning, you crawled over to him, knees scraping against the unforgiving grit of the concrete floor. Once you reached his feet, you looked up at him. He nodded expectantly, a horribly smug smile on his full lips. You bent your elbows and bowed your head, pressing a small kiss to his left boot, then to his right, though your face burned in humiliation.

“Atta girl!” he crowed before reaching down to take your wrists in his gloved hands. He bound them behind your back with his belt, pulling the leather too tightly so it bit into your skin. You bowed your head at grimaced at the pain.

“Darlin’, darlin’, darlin’. What to do with you next…”His voice trailed off as he circled you slowly, like a shark in chummed waters, his footfalls heavy and deliberate as you knelt at his mercy. Though your position was terribly uncomfortable, you were surprised at how exciting it was to be at the epicenter of Negan’s barely contained, wrathful lust. He wanted to hurt you, oh yeah, but he wanted you to love it.

Though you never would have admitted it to anyone else, not in a million years, you were ready to love it, that’s for sure.

When his boots returned to your line of sight, he yanked your hair, pulling your head back so hard you almost got whiplash. With a dark, entirely sadistic smile, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. Fuck, he was so hard he was already dripping. You groaned as an answering wetness flooded your underwear, and your lips parted subconsciously.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, his fingers tightening in your hair. “Wider.”

You complied, and he guided his length all the way into your mouth. Your fingers clenched and spasms wracked your arms as you instinctively wriggled against your bonds as he pulled your mouth onto his cock slowly, hitting the back of your throat before pulling all the way out. You blushed at the sight of his length covered in your saliva.

“That oughtta do the fuckin’ trick,” he said, releasing your hair and moving behind you. You let out a yelp as he manhandled you, pushing your right cheek into the concrete and pulling your ass up and back. In an instant, he yanked your pants down to your knees.

“Who do you belong to?” he growled in your ear.

You gasped out, “You, Negan.”

He hummed in approval before gripping the binds of your wrists and entering you in one brutal push. “Louder.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and cried out his name, the suddenness and force behind his motions setting you on fire. Your cunt stretched around him, soaking him with the arousal of your shame, and your body quaked.

He grunted loudly as he thrust into you, stretching your cunt deliciously around his thick cock. You moaned loudly when he slid his hand down your bare arms until he reached your exposed cheek. He spread his fingers, using the span of his hand to press your face into the unforgiving floor so hard that you groaned in discomfort and squirmed.

“Who’s the only one that gets to fuck this tight little cunt?” he snarled above you, snapping his hips to drive his length into you over and over, each thrust punctuated with a loud groan or labored breath.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, your own drool pooling on the floor around you as your mind slipped away. You were cognizant of nothing else in the world but Negan: the weight of him, his scent, his restraints, the forceful pleasure-pain of him moving inside of you…

He pressed your face down harder. “Hmm? Who owns this pussy?”

You sobbed out, “Negan!” over and over, tears rolling down your face as he fucked you into oblivion. Your orgasm was sudden and soul-crushing, abruptly breaking you into a million little pieces with one well-aimed thrust deep inside of you. You shook and moaned, gasping and crying as you chanted his name like it was a prayer.

He exhaled loudly and pulled out, leaving you in your pathetic position: a trembling, supplicating mess, bare ass raised high, face scraping against concrete. He knelt before you, treating you to the sight of his large, ungloved hand furiously pulling on his cock before he grunted thickly and came, splattering your face and hair with the thick, white ropes of his pleasure.

You closed your eyes at the feeling of his plentiful release dripping down your face. You couldn’t help but flick your tongue out to catch the rivulets that had dribbled across your lips.

“Holy fucking shit damn, look at my dirty girl!” he exclaimed, grinning manically as he brought his soiled hand to your face and rubbed, smearing his cooling cum into your hair and skin. “You screamed so loud, I bet the whole Sanctuary knows who owns your cunt now.”

Your cheeks burned and you groaned into your puddle of drool. It was true. You were his, inside and out, through and through.

“Next time Dwight, or any other motherfucker who thinks he’s all slick, tries to get you alone…” He trailed off, looking at you as you struggled to slow your heart rate and find the words, any words.

He leaned in, brushing your ear with his lips. You shuddered as he whispered, “I’ll beat him to a bloody fucking pulp and then throw you down in the fucking viscera before I fuck your pretty, wet pussy. Understand?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, utterly overwhelmed by the notion.

“Come on, baby,” he said, releasing your sore wrists from the confines of his belt. “Pull up your pants. Let’s go show Dwight what a fucking mess you are.”


	6. Lucille is Thirsty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few nonnies had asked me for a fic involving a threesome between you, Negan, and Lucille, with bonus daddy kink/Negan getting off on you getting busy with Lucille. This is written for them! I also feel compelled to preemptively explain that I have been quietly losing my mind over that moment in the season 7 premiere in which germaphobe!Negan douses his blood-covered axe in rubbing alcohol, so shout-out to that scene! My man's a fucking germaphobe, just like me! 
> 
> **WARNINGS**: Daddy kink, object insertion, weapons kink, bodily fluids, explicit smut, name-calling, Negan's dirty mouth.

Christ, it was hot. Hot as hell. The air was thick enough to settle on your flesh, like an ill-fitting exoskeleton. Maybe thicker. Today would have been a perfect day to bust out that fancy Cuisinart ice cream maker that you had splurged on and whip up something good—that recipe for honey-lavender ice cream that made you feel like a top chef, maybe. 

You smoothed out the threadbare bedspread before you, letting your daydream consume you. Shit. The closest thing to ice cream you’d had since the world went tits up was one of those half-melted, freezer-burned Fudgsicles that Negan had scored on a run. A smile crept across your lips at the memory of that day—it had been sweltering, much like today. You shimmied a pillow into its case as you thought about how he’d surprised you with the frozen treats in the kitchen, grinning like the cat who got the cream as you’d accepted his offering with a grateful, “Thank you, Daddy.”

You parted your lips as heat rushed between your legs. The way he’d fucked you that day had been delicious—he had taken his time, long and languid, and didn’t stop until you were both soaked in sweat and the fluids of your shared pleasure. 

“Mmm, don’t you look fucking fantastic, all bent over my bed,” came a throaty drawl in your ear, startling you from your naughty reverie. 

“Ooh, you scared me,” you said, relaxing your white-knuckled grip on the pillow in your hand as Negan nuzzled his nose into your hair and inhaled deeply. You had been so busy daydreaming about ice cream and past fucks that Negan had slipped into the bedroom, completely undetected. 

“ _Good_ ,” he murmured, his hand grazing your waist before trailing up your stomach to squeeze your breast through your shirt. You exhaled shakily—he was in a mood, and when Negan wanted something, he was a raging tempest: devouring and destroying everything in his path until he got what he wanted and made it his. You were no exception.

“Daddy and Lucille want to play,” he said, expertly maneuvering you down onto the bed that you’d just made. He smiled, his teeth gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. “Think you can fucking handle us, babydoll?”

You nodded vigorously and pulled up your shirt. Shit, he was a sight to behold—standing between your splayed legs, hair slicked back, lust radiating from his ruggedly handsome face, Lucille resting against his leather-clad right shoulder…

If you hadn’t wanted him before, you sure as hell did now. 

“Why don’t you make those fucking pants scarce for us, darlin’?” he said, sauntering slowly to the bathroom. 

“OK,” you replied, quickly complying. You couldn’t help but admire the way his ass looked as he disappeared into the bathroom…only to return moments later with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a hand towel. 

You wriggled out of your jeans and panties and regarded Negan expectantly. He flipped the bottle open and poured its contents onto Lucille’s handle and rubbed. Anticipation and arousal coiled thickly in your belly—it was going to be _that_ kind of fuck. 

“Go on then,” he encouraged, setting the alcohol down and patting Lucille dry. “Spread them sexy legs for Daddy.”

No matter how many times you had been with him, he never failed to make you blush. You obeyed, eyes locked on his face as he knelt between your legs. He spread your thighs wider with his gloved hand and took his time appraising you, which only served to heighten your arousal and deepen your blush. He flicked his tongue out and licked his lips before he leaned forward to taste you. 

You rolled your hips against his face, loudly moaning your pleasure as he worked you over, licking and sucking expertly. When he pulled off with an obscene slurp, you cried out in protest and yanked desperately at his hair.

He grinned devilishly at you, his dimples deep and his eyes dark. “Where the fuck are my fuckin’ manners? Here I am, just eating you the fuck up while Lucille here”—he brandished his deadly accomplice with a waggle of his eyebrows—“ain’t gettin’ shit. And she’s getting fuckin’ impatient.”

You almost arched off the bed when you felt two of his long, slick, leather-clad fingers press just inside of you, teasing your sensitive, wet sex. “Fuck,” you gasped as he pressed deeper inside of you.

“Mmm, look at that perfect, slutty little pussy, Lucille. Think she’s ready for you?” Negan mused breathily, twisting his fingers _just so_. 

“Yes, I’m ready!” you cried as you writhed under his ministrations, yearning for more. 

“Hmm, good,” Negan hummed in approval, abruptly sliding his fingers out, leaving you clenching and aching in their wake. He waved the bottle of slick that he always kept handy at you. “Gotta make sure both of my dirty girls are soaking fucking wet.”

You lolled your head against the comforter, face burning at his words. Sometimes you couldn’t believe the things that came out of his mouth…or the things that he could get you to do with the right words, or the right flick of that tongue…

Grinning, he pressed his hand against your thigh, keeping you spread as he positioned Lucille’s dripping, blunt handle at your sensitive opening. You were breathing heavily in anticipation, your eyes trained on his handsome, mischievous face as he eased her in slowly, stretching you hopelessly, torturously wide. The sweetest aching heat built between your legs as you trembled and whimpered with the effort of accommodating his beloved Lucille. By the time he stopped, your sweaty hands were twisted in the comforter and you were delirious with the effort and forbidden ecstasy that came hand-in-hand with taking such a large, inflexible object so deep inside of you.

“Fuck, that’s it, that’s fuckin’ right,” he encouraged breathlessly, his own face flushed with desire as he stared at where you were stretched around his weapon. You moaned wantonly and purposefully tightened around the intrusion, loving the way he licked his lips at the sight. 

“How does she feel, baby?” he asked, sweat beading on his brow as he gripped Lucille tightly, just under her barbs—you knew his knuckles were white under the black leather of his gloves.

“Big,” you sighed, clenching again and rolling your hips suggestively (he exhaled shakily). “Please…fuck me Daddy.”

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, voice straining as he slowly drew Lucille most of the way out before pushing her back in. Fuck, that impossible, wonderful fullness was nearly too much for you to bear—stars burst behind your eyes as you cried out Negan’s name, leaning into his thrusts as he picked up his pace. You were suspended in the most delicious space, all of your senses heightened by the feeling of his hand pressing your thigh open, the thickness of Lucille’s handle moving inside of you, and the sound of his filthy praise in your ear…every stimulus burning you from the inside out, building up to what promised to be an earth-shattering orgasm..

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, stopping his movements suddenly. 

“Don’t stop!” you exclaimed urgently. 

“Fuck yourself,” he ordered, standing between your splayed legs and unzipping his pants. 

Whining slightly at the change in dynamic, but too far gone to care, you reached down and grasped Lucille as firmly as you could in your state and began frantically thrusting, bucking your hips as you chased the frenzied heat that was dangerously close to consuming you. Negan growled and ripped off one glove, gluing his eyes to your cunt as he pulled on his cock; shit, it was so hard it was dripping thick, pearly strands onto your flesh. 

“Come on, baby, show Daddy how much you fucking love Lucille,” he murmured, his eyelids heavy with lust. 

 

Your cunt pulsed and tightened at the feral look of desirous possession his eyes as he grit his teeth and picked up the pace of his hand, splattering you with his arousal—you bit your lip and doubled your own efforts, frantically writhing on the bed as you fucked yourself hard and fast. When you brought one trembling hand to rub at your wet, swollen clit, that was it—

“God, Negan!” you gasped, throwing your head back and coming with enough force to shatter you into a million pieces, wave upon wave of painful ecstasy wracking your body as you clenched around Lucille. 

You vaguely registered him groaning a string of obscenities above you before he covered the quivering flesh of your lower abdomen with his hot, thick release. 

Once you had recovered enough to sit up, you gently eased Lucille out of yourself, grimacing at that final, full stretch. Negan was lying on the bed next to you, breathing hard, his leather jacket unzipped to reveal a sweat-soaked white undershirt. 

“Mmm, Daddy, that was so good,” you said coquettishly, handing Lucille to him, handle-first. 

He took it with his ungloved hand, rubbing his fingers through the shiny evidence of your orgasm. He laughed lowly. 

“I wonder what I like better, baby,” he said, setting her down to suck your cum from his forefinger. You shuddered. “Lucille covered in the blood and brains of a dumb motherfucker, or Lucille just fuckin’ soaked in your fucking pussy juice.”

He grinned, locking eyes with you as he deliberately licked the rest of his fingers clean. Eyes glittering wickedly, he said, “I simply cannot decide.”


	7. Good Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nonny says : What if... how would Negan react if there's a virgin woman who has always tried masturbating to get release, but she never does though.
> 
> So, I’ve gotten a substantial handful of asks/headcanons about Negan and virgins, and they were clearly inspirational, seeing as my hand slipped and I wrote a nearly 2500-word little story about Negan and a virgin who has never successfully gotten herself off. Luckily for her, our fearless, villainous leader is ready to, ah, lend a hand. Here it is, everyone. 
> 
> ***WARNINGS***: explicit as hell smut, bodily fluids (you lot know what I’m about), copious amounts of finger sucking, dirty talk, Negan’s filthy mouth

“Darlin’, ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of,” said Negan, angling his body towards you from his seat on the edge of the bed. You could tell that he was smiling, but you couldn’t bear to look at him, not after you had just admitted to him that you had never been able to get yourself off—despite the many, many times that you’d tried. He’d just walked in on you during one of these times, as you writhed naked on your bed in a sweaty fit of frustration, rubbing at your clit, eyes squeezed shut, your wild imagination running rampant with fantasies about none other than your very own devastatingly handsome, fearless leader. 

Instead of making it into an ordeal, he had been surprisingly understanding, and seemed genuinely curious when you told him of your plight. Hell, you’d even admitted that you’d tried thinking of him to speed things along.

“It just…it feels so good, and I think it’s gonna happen, but it just fucking doesn’t,” you said. Suddenly self-conscious, you moved to close your bare legs. He stopped you by firmly pressing one large hand to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

“Show me,” he said lowly, sending shivers up your spine. 

Though your face burned, you forced yourself to look into his eyes, darkened with lust and filled with sinister intent. 

You parted your thighs again, gulping as the cool air hit your pulsing, exposed cunt. You leaned against the headboard for support as you hesitantly began rubbing your wet clit. You already noticed how different it felt with the added thrill and shame of Negan’s presence.

“Mmm, there’s a good girl,” he praised before standing up. Your eyes widened with anxiety—was he just going to fucking leave you there, after all that you’d told him? All that he had seen?

With one look at your face, he immediately knew. A wide smile split his face, deepening those infuriatingly handsome dimples. “Don’t worry, I’m not fuckin’ going anywhere.” 

He shrugged out of his jacket, and the sight of his body in that slightly sweat-damp grey undershirt sent a lightning bolt of heat up your spine and a corresponding rush of wetness between your thighs. You bit your lip and increased the speed of your fingers.

“I got an idea,” he said amiably, raising his eyebrows. “Why don’t you scoot up some, make a little room for me?”

You nodded and complied, edging your ass further up the bed to allow him to slide behind you. With one strong arm, he pulled your back flush to his chest. You couldn’t help but tense up—you had never been this close to him. You could feel his heart beating against your back…you could feel where his cock hardened rapidly in his pants against your lower back. 

“Hmm, just relax, darlin’,” he murmured in your ear, one hand trailing up your inner thigh, the other gently rubbing your arm. “I’m gonna fuckin’ help you sort out this little problem, ok?”

Breathing hard, you slammed your eyes shut, well aware that your heart was beating as quickly as a hummingbird’s, that every last droplet of your blood was concentrated between your legs, as evidenced by the wet patch that grew on the comforter beneath you.

“You good with this, doll?” he asked before dipping his head to press a dry kiss to your neck.

“I…I think so, yeah,” you managed, driven to the brink of madness with the desire to grind your aching clit against your fingers (or better yet, _his_ fingers). You whimpered. 

“Yeah?” He ran his fingers lightly up your inner thigh and tapped you gently, prompting you to lift your leg. “Here, put your legs...yeah, over mine. Just like that.”

Your breaths were coming out in rapid, noisy exhales as you bent your legs at the knee, giving him the room he needed to slide his long, lovely legs beneath yours. He nudged his knees against your calves, spreading your thighs nearly as wide as they could go in a straddle split. 

“Good,” he murmured in your ear, grazing his fingers across your knees, up your inner thigh…

Your vision swam when he took your right hand in his and brought it to his lips, and you nearly fainted when he parted said lovely, plush lips and took your fingers into his hot, wet mouth. 

“Yeah,” you gasped, overcome by your own arousal. If you’d ever been this turned on before in your life, you were sure you would have recalled it. “But, ah, Negan…I’ve never done this before…” You shifted against him as he slowly released your fingers from his mouth. “I’ve never…never had someone touch me _there_ before…”

He licked a long, languid stripe up your neck and guided your hand between your thighs. “I fuckin’ told you not to worry, darlin’. Just touch yourself and let me fucking help you get off…”

Shit, that sounded good to you. Far too aroused to pay any mind to the shame that reddened your cheeks, you slid your slick fingers between your pussy lips and rubbed your clit. You whimpered and wriggled against him. 

“Good girl,” he murmured again, running his hands up your side before roughly squeezing your breasts. You jolted forward and cried out, shocked by the sudden sensation. Your eyes rolled back in your head as his fingers found your nipples, alternating between irritatingly light strokes and firm pinches. 

“That’s it, rub that pussy harder,” he whispered, his breath hot and damp against your neck. “You might be a virgin, but darlin’, you’re ready for my cock, I just know it.”

You mewled and pressed your fingers against your clit harder as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. He continued, “Bet you wish my fuckin’ tongue was licking that wet pussy, huh? And I’d fucking _lick_ it, baby, none of this half-assed, get-it-wet-real-quick shit. I’d fuckin’ spread them lips wide the fuck open, then shove my tongue into that tight, wet pussy. Mmm, fuck yeah, I’d pop that sweet little cherry on my tongue before going to fuckin’ town on that clit. I bet you taste so fuckin’ good too, darlin’. Mattera fact, I wanna have myself a little preview.”

You were so far gone, lost to his filthy words that you didn’t notice right away that his fingers were encircling your right wrist, but you _did_ notice when he yanked your hand away from your dripping cunt and sucked your fingers back into his mouth. You moaned desperately, not quite believe that this was happening.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm!” he hummed emphatically around your fingers, swiping his tongue over your again and again, not one drop going to waste. Your eyelids fluttered and your cunt clenched, craving something, anything…you pulled your fingers from his lips and returned them to your clit, rubbing hard before slipping them lower and pressing them just inside. 

“Oh, god!” you gasped, resting the back of your head against the slope where his shoulder met his neck. Negan eagerly seize the opportunity to latch his lips to the exposed flesh of your neck and suck, hard, sending shudders through you before pressing sloppy, wet kisses up to your jaw. You plunged your fingers deep inside yourself, deeper than you ever had before, and instinctively tried to knock your knees together at the foreign, delightful sensation of warmth coiling in your belly. You had gotten here before, but never so quickly, and you wanted to chase the feeling as fast as possible. His legs anchored yours where they were, spread and vulnerable, and all you could do was moan and writhe as you frantically fucked yourself with your fingers.

“How does that shit feel?” he asked against your ear, running his hands over your breasts. You cried out and gripped his forearm with white knuckles. 

“Feels so good,” you gasped, your head lolling and your back arching. He chuckled and rubbed your stiff, sensitive nipples. You slammed your eyes shut as you clenched around your own fingers.

“Bet you’re so fuckin’ tight, baby, so fuckin’ wet,” he murmured, the hardness in his pants pressing insistently at your lower back. “When I’m all done sucking on that sweet little clit and licking up all that dee-fuckin’-licious girl cum, darlin’, I’m gonna push these gorgeous fuckin’ gams wide as shit”--he emphatically opened his legs, spreading your impossibly wider—“and rub my big, fat cock all over your cunt, get it all wet from your own fuckin’ pussy juice, ‘til you’re fucking begging me for that shit. Then…ooh, darlin’. Then, you’re fuckin’ in for it.”

“Yeah?” you moaned, drawing your dripping fingers from your clenching cunt to rub at your painfully swollen clit once again, uncaring of the rivulet of drool that was making its way down your chin. You were on the edge—of what, you were uncertain, but you thought you might die if he stopped talking.

“Fuck yeah,” he replied, his breath hot against your ear, his beard delightfully scratchy against your face as his hands wandered your body, touching you like he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing—and you knew he did. He had multiple wives, for fuck’s sake, he was so much more experienced than you. Shit, he was taking care of you. At that thought in particular, you let out an urgent whimper and rubbed yourself faster, pushing yourself towards the release of that maddening heat in your gut.

“Once you’re begging for my big cock, baby,” he continued, his breathing labored. “Then I’m gonna push it in, all nice and slow, maybe just tease you with the head a little…I want you to get used to it, ‘cuz, darlin’, it ain’t small. You’ll need to get used to feeling that tight, wet virgin cunt filled the fuck up, and once you are…mmm, baby girl, I’m gonna fuck you so good—“

“Negan!” you cried out, thrashing against him. Delirious with pleasure, you grabbed his hand and sucked two of his long fingers into your mouth, licking desperately, relishing the taste of his skin. When you pulled them out, a string of drool hung between the tip of his index finger and your bottom lip. 

“Negan,” you groaned, furiously rubbing your clit. “I want…want your fingers inside…”

“Yeah? You wanna come on my fingers, darlin’?” he whispered, a dark, harsh urgency in his voice. 

“Yes, god, yes, fuck! Please!!!” You had never felt so out of control, surrendering entirely to your most primal urges as they ravaged you. In fact, you were having an out of body experience—the bliss between your thighs sent you skyrocketing upwards, hovering over yourself as you squirmed and trembled in Negan’s lap.

“Fuckin’ say it again,” he growled.

“Please, Negan—please, please, oh, please, let me come on your fingers,” you cried desperately, rocking your hips forward to press your fingers harder against yourself, driven to the brink of insanity by the terribly uncomfortable, inexplicably blissful, hot tension that suffused your body. You were a dam on the verge of bursting, a cresting wave, a burgeoning wildfire…just teetering on the brink, yearning to fall over the edge.

His lips were against your ear as he snaked his hand between your thighs and pushed teasingly at the soft, wet opening to your body. Your free hand flew up to fist in his hair. 

“Holy fucking shit, darlin’, you’re so fucking tight, so fucking juicy,” he said, nipping at the shell of your ear as he pushed his long finger deeper into you. “Can you fucking imagine how my huge, hard cock is gonna feel in that sweet cunt? I sure as shit can, and darlin’, you’re gonna fuckin’ love it—gonna fuck you so good, get so deep inside you you’re gonna fuckin’ forget what it feels like to not have my big dick inside you…”

Your body seized up when his middle finger joined his index finger, and your brain flat-lined. Gripping his hair tightly with one hand, you continued feverishly stroking your throbbing clit, rolling your hips to meet the thrusts of his perfect, thick fingers. Fuck, he was stroking you deeper than you could ever reach, hitting spots you had no idea you could access, his filthy words heightening the tension that built intolerably inside of you…

…Then he whispered, “Come, darlin’. Lemme feel that fuckin’ pussy burst all over my fingers so I can fuckin’ taste it...”

“Oh Jesus, oh god, oh Negan, Negan--!” You yanked his hair and your back bowed as you finally tipped over the edge, a white-hot fire bursting between your thighs and consuming you entirely, body and soul—not just once, not just twice, but over and over, again and again, great, rolling waves of unrelenting bliss that didn’t stop until you’d soaked Negan’s fingers in addition to the bedspread below you, and tears rolled down your face.

Finally satiated for the first time in your life, you melted against Negan. You didn’t know if the sweat that soaked his undershirt was from your back or his chest, and it didn’t matter: you were floating on cloud nine, and nothing in the whole, wide, morbidly afflicted world could change that.

Negan eased his fingers out slowly with a low chuckle. Your cheeks flushed with the heat of your shame as he rubbed his shiny, sticky index and middle fingers together. 

“Hot _damn_!” he exclaimed incredulously before he shoved his fingers between his lips and suckled. His eyes rolled back in his head as he savored your release, sucking so indulgently and noisily that you had to avert your eyes. “ _Mmm_! That shit is fuckin’ finger-lickin’ good.”

“What…what about you?” you asked weakly, acutely aware of the persistent bulge pressing against the base of your spine, though your body was a limper than a pile of unspooled thread and your eyes were on the verge of closing for an indeterminable amount of time. 

Negan chuckled lowly and pressed a kiss to your neck. “Maybe next time. Why don’t you lie down for a little and recover from that nut.” 

He slowly, carefully untangled his limbs from yours, gently repositioning you on the bed so he could extricate himself. He stood over you, his gorgeous face flushed and sweaty, tee shirt soaked, and impressive hard on straining against his fly. “I’m gonna go tend to the _this_ ,” he said, cocking an eyebrow and gesturing to his crotch. “But best believe I’ll be seeing your fine ass again very fucking soon.”

Your stomach flipped as he grinned deviously, his eyes flashing menacingly. He wiggled his fingers at you. “Would you fuckin’ look at that! Still sticky. Bet I’ll still be able to taste that virgin cunt while I’m rubbin’ this shit out.”

With that, he was gone. You scrubbed your hand over your sweat-damp face and groaned at the realization that you already missed him. Truth be told, so did your nether regions. Shit. What had you gotten yourself into?

**Author's Note:**

> Come cry about Negan and TWD with me on [Tumblr](http://hannibalssweaters.tumblr.com/)!


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